Send Nudes
by darkbeetlebot
Summary: Homura gets into The Mood after a hard day and decides to "let loose", then makes one horrible mistake.


It had been a pretty stressful night. Not only had Mami nearly gotten everyone killed by belligerently blitzkrieging a witch, but she also cost enough time that they just barely missed the open hours for Homura's favorite noodle place. Starved and irritable, she went home alone and proceeded to stuff her face with cheap, microwaveable food.

Of course, something had caught her eye, earlier. Something she very vividly remembers as she undresses and falls back into her bed. During the witch hunt, that night, Madoka had tried to help out and ended up literally tripping over herself, presenting her entire bottom in Homura's general direction.

Her first thought on the matter was, "Is she trying to get herself killed?" It then became, "What a klutz." Then it was, "It's kind of cute, though." It quickly spun into, "Like that...butt?" and finally, "That's nice." At last, we meet her at this exact moment as her mind is completely stuck on that image.

Of course, it's not like she's naive. How could she be with every other girl in the damn classroom talking about 'dicks this' and 'dicks that'. Dicks were never a very interesting topic to listen about, anyways, no matter how utterly bizarre they are. Meanwhile, the boys were always whispering within earshot about all the girls they found cute, and tits. Holy fuck, do they apparently love tits. The thought of setting one up with Mami just for kicks had crossed her mind several times, but she ultimately decided that it would be more trouble than it's worth.

But the _tits_. Sure, the girls talked about butts and tits, too, but not as attractive assets. No, they were always just demeaning themselves and complimenting each other in some sort of fucked up game of self-oppressive hot potato. The worst part about it is that any approach to fix that cycle just ends up perpetuating it, which especially hurts in Madoka's case.

"Don't worry, you've got a nice ass." Homura had told her on one occasion after catching her demeaning her attractiveness some time ago. In hindsight, it probably came off as more of a pass than she meant it to. But on second thought, it wasn't dishonest. And at that point, she goes straight back to what she saw earlier, which had easily confirmed her compliments. And then back to the previous, she thinks, _"Why don't they talk about this shit, more?"_ After all, the majority of them are total degenerates in their private life, 100% guaranteed (to her, at least). The only possible exception being Madoka herself.

Which is strange, considering how Hitomi and Sayaka are both apparently bitches in heat, fighting over the same idiot who would probably rather fuck his violin.

Grudges aside, how could they remain silent on such matters? Boys talk about girls, girls talk about girls, adults talk about girls, politicians talk about girls, aliens talk about girls — _**everyone talks about girls!**_ Obviously, their characteristics are superior to all others. She could honestly go on a raving list about all the things she loves about Madoka, and girls in general.

"...Like _that_." she says as she rounds back to the image in her head. Internally, she starts to visually obsess over it, and then remembers that she took an ACTUAL picture. Time-frozen, of course. She pulls it up and rolls over onto her side while staring.

"God, her hips are wide." she immediately comments, taking time to take in both the still image and the memory. The vague hint of "cameltoe" is what really does it for her, though. She licks her lips and starts rubbing her legs together as she tries her hardest to mentally undress her and imagine just how utterly immaculate it would look. Would it be an innie or an outie? Shaven, or how much? Tight, or... No, definitely tight. Clean, pale? Certainly. Her ass alone would be a better pillow than the rock sitting at the head of her bed, too. With each new detail, her hand wanders further south. Eventually, she just drops the phone and shuts her eyes to better aid her imagination.

Of course, it doesn't last long. She's stuck just spasming out in minutes at the mere thought of Madoka's naked body. But the surge of arousal just keeps coming, apparently; to the point that the heat that keeps building up inside of her forces her under the covers to continue. She tries to hold up a bit longer, despite the increased sensitivity. This time, she tries to imagine what every part of Madoka might taste like. Well, of course it would be a little salty, but what else could she discern? Not just about taste, but texture. Despite having skin like a doll's, it ought to be as soft as a marshmallow. Maybe as sweet, too. Smooth, the light layer of fur not even detectable; only becoming even more delicate around the fingers.

But what about the nipples? Straight to that, she jumps, and then realizes she doesn't even know her preference. Hard ones would be a joy to just latch onto, but softer ones could feel like actual ice cream, only warmer. Speaking of heat, Homura always ran pretty warm, while Madoka was complimentarily cool in comparison. A relief, really; running warm isn't all it's made up to be. She could really use it, right now; being able to wrap her arms around her to cool down a little and make her feel better. To cure the numbness in her feet by stuffing them between her legs, and completely envelope her like a heating blanket. Or maybe a giant stuffed animal.

She doesn't quite make it any further past the thought of her lips before she goes over, again. She really could keep going if she wanted to, but then she stops with the daydreaming and looks down at herself. "Hideous." she says to herself. Too bony and meek-looking. Not the right kind of pale, but more like a malnourished ghost. Being so flat-chested is what really kills her, though. Mami is obviously more the typical "type", so how on Earth could she possibly think well of this?

Well, by being Madoka, of course.

But would that really be bad? All those girls already rant about themselves and how inadequate their bodies are despite not being _actual zombies_ or anything like that. They wouldn't be talking about how pretty she is if they saw her actual body before the beauty routine. Magic helps, too. It could help even more, but with each body being temporary, it's rather pointless to waste it on such frivolous things.

But besides that, does it even really matter? It's at this point she laughs herself off: "Post-masturbatory Depression" she calls it. Born from guilt, or something else, perhaps? She hasn't the slightest clue or motivation to research it. The important thing is that she suddenly feels like shit.

And a minute later, a strange thought crosses her mind. A plan, really. An utterly insane one, but something that could help. She throws the covers off and grabs her phone again, gets back under, and shoves her rock-hard pillow some ways between her legs. After a deep breath, she sets her phone's camera delay, starts it, sets it up, and then does a peace sign while posing with the most awkward grin imaginable.

It's over in seconds, but the self-embarrassment despite being alone lasts at least another full minute. Once that's over, she checks the quality and realizes that her face was visibly red, even in the dark. It gets even redder; about like Madoka was at the beginning of her first repeat.

And then she pulls up the texting app. "Okay. You can do this. She's going to like it. This isn't weird at all." she tells herself. It totally is, though. In an anxious fit, she sends it with the message, "How is it?" and then dies of embarrassment. Figuratively.

Meanwhile, Madoka is sitting in bed and peacefully reading a book at candlelight after an equally stressful day. When suddenly, her phone vibrates.

"Eh?" she says, picking it up. "Homura? At this hour?"

The moment she opens the unsolicited nude, she nearly drops her phone in shock and squeaks so loud that her mother hears it from the kitchen. "I-Is that...!?" she gasps to herself, staring intently at it. She replies, "Is that...you?"

"Yes." Homura briefly replies

Madoka has to lie back and take a deep breath for this one.

"So what do you think?" Homura repeats the message.

Madoka looks back at it again, having been too awestruck at first to notice it. She then looks back at the picture and stares. She rolls over, carefully making sure that the screen is face towards her and not the door.

"Whoa." she whispers as she just keeps staring, a full-faced blush having formed. She had never really masturbated before (to anyone's knowledge), but this was sure as hell making that a tempting option. However, there's a problem. She knows that if she just says that Homura looks good, she won't believe it. She has to go a step further.

Several minutes later, Homura receives her long-awaited reply, "I really like it. I don't know if you meant anything by it, but I always thought you were beautiful. I wish I had a waist as tiny as yours, and even if your chest is small, I think it's cute, and I'm not much better. I never thought I would get to see that much of you."

It would be absolutely relieving to read, if not for her putting herself down. So, Homura says back, "No, I'm sure you're body is perfect. Like an angel's."

Madoka can't help but grin, "No, I'm just average."

Homura's own grin goes from wide to comfortably sentimental as she sends, "I don't believe that for a second."

And then she reads something unexpected. Madoka replies, "Do I need to show you?"

Homura practically panics at the thought of that _actually happening_. And she's about to respond, as well, when something _else_ unexpected happens. Another message pops up from someone else which reads, "Holy shit, is that a nude?" Neither of them know who just sent that. Until they look at the text target.

Homura had sent the image to their group chat.

She proceeds to scream internally and repeatedly bang her head against the head of her bed while yelling at herself, "STUPID, STUPID, STUPID!"

Her neighbor yells at her, "SHUT UP, STUPID!"

Homura yells back, "FUCK YOU!"

When she checks back, Sayaka has made herself obvious, "This is gold! I can't believe you actually did that! I'm gonna call Mami."

And she subsequently comments, "I can see it just fine, Ms. Miki."

Madoka tries to interject, "Hey, be nice! She just messed up a little!"

Sayaka replies, "Wow, this is the gayest thing you have ever done. Seriously, why don't you two just _do it_ already? But Madoka, send it in the right box so I don't have to see it."

Homura manages to find that offensive, "What, is it not good enough for you?"

Sayaka replies, "What? I was just trying to give you two some privacy, it's not like she's ugly."

Homura shoots back, "That's right. Your eyes could not possibly grasp her immaculate form."

Sayaka most likely rolls her eyes at that, "That might be the weirdest thing you've ever said to me. Seeya."

In the disgruntled and lengthy silence that follows, Homura finally realizes that she's still stark naked, which makes the argument seem somehow weirder. Another wave of bodily discomfort hits despite Madoka complimenting her before, but only until she gets another notification.

A message from Madoka, this time in the private messages, "Can you come over tomorrow?"

Homura can barely type "Yes." with how much she starts shaking upon looking at that question. Apparently, Madoka had taken that suggestion of Sayaka's a bit too literally. Either that or Homura is reading way too deep into this.

Either way, tomorrow was probably going to be a good day.


End file.
